A Very Supernatural Fairy Tale
by booklover613
Summary: Supernatural, Tangled AU. Castiel is just a guy who's locked up in a tower in the middle of the woods who wants to escape his parents, Dean is a thief who hides in the wrong tower, and Sam is the horse that's trying to get the two of them together. Rated T for language
1. Chapter 1

"Gabriel? Gabriel, where are you?" Castiel called out to the seemingly empty tower. When no answer came, Castiel sighed.

"Oh well, I guess I'm just going to have to eat Gabriel's fish all by myself." An annoyed sound emanated from the orange clay pot sitting on the floor next to the couch. Castiel smiled and lifted the pot, spilling its contents onto the couch. A small tabby cat looked up at Castiel, its unusually golden eyes full of indignation.

"Gotcha." Castiel smirked. Gabriel growled.

"Now, now." Castiel wagged a finger at the cat. "I found you fair and square. I didn't _make_ you make noise."

Gabriel gave Castiel a look, and straightened himself, slinking off the couch to enjoy the bowl of fish that Castiel had set out. Castiel chuckled and ran a hand through Gabriel's ginger fur. "Fine. You can pick the next game."  
Gabriel scurried over to the window and began jumping up and down, trying to reach the ledge, fish clearly all but forgotten.  
Castiel laughed and picked Gabriel up, setting him on the window ledge. Castiel placed his elbows on the sill next to the over-excited cat and leant on his palms, looking out.

"If only-" and then he stopped. No use dreaming. He wasn't going anywhere any time soon. Not with-

"Castiel? Rope, please!"

"Coming, Mother!" Castiel called, fake cheerily. He shook his head vigorously before sending down a rope attached to a pulley that hung next to the window. He couldn't waste time with those useless thoughts. Not with his parents around.  
He felt a sharp tug on the rope and began to pull it back up. The motions were familiar to him by now. Castiel remembered when he was little and could barely lift the rope. Immediately he winced at the accompanying memory of the yelling match that followed. Well, a one way match at any rate. And the slap that ended it.  
Two strenuous minute later, mother was sweeping into the tower, already complaining.

"Castiel, didn't you do anything while I was gone? Honestly, you are absolutely useless." Mother's words cut through Castiel skin like sharp nails, dragging down his arms, leaving trails of ripped skin and seeping blood behind them. But Castiel could heal those types of scars in a second, the type that Father made. Mother's, on the other hand, refused to heal.

"Your father will be back soon." Mother said as she flopped onto the couch. Castiel rushed to sleep the footstool under Mother's waiting, elevates feet. Mother smiles indulgently at him as she relaxes his feet, and Castiel glows.

"I am absolutely _exhausted_. I feel like I've gained 75 year. Castiel, would you mind healing me?"

"Of course, Mother." Castile knelt dutifully on the floor next to Mother and clasped her right hand between his.

"Heal." He whispered.  
Castiel had been healing both his parents for as long as he could remember. It made them younger, clearing up the grey in their hair and the bags underneath their eyes. Castiel healed himself too, though he hated doing it. It didn't feel natural. But he couldn't very well continue helping his parents when his bruised arms ached every time he lifted them.

Castiel often wondered whether this was normal. Were everyone's parents like this? Did anyone ever die; from age, from sickness? That's the way it seemed from Castiel's books. But he didn't dare tell his parents-they would hurt him, or worse, they might take the books away.

On the top-most part of Castiel's family's tower there was a library. Castiel's parents never ventured up there, claiming that reading was a pointless and a waste of time. But they let Castiel read, because they said it kept him out of trouble. And, as Castiel had overheard from whispered conversations through cracks in between thin doorways, it kept him inside the tower. But that wasn't completely true.

Any time his parents asked what he was reading, he would talk about some cookbook or gardening manual. In truth, Castiel wiled away his hours in between pages of fantasy novels and fairy tales. Every day after he finished cleaning he relaxed on his cushion under the highest window of the tower, and with Gabriel curled up next to him, he escaped into the realms of his fictional books.

In these books, children had families- not just parents, but sibling and friends too. They went to school to learn, and when they came home, their parents were there with dinner on the table and plentiful hugs. Unless they were step-mothers, of course. Sometimes people died in the stories. No one lived in castles, or was healed any time they felt tired. But that, Castiel often mused, made him special. Didn't it? He was like one of the princesses, hiding away in a hidden castle, waiting for a prince to come save him. In his case though, the dragons keeping him in his castle were parents, whom he loved. And they loved him too- Mother always told him so. Castiel blinked to disperse the treacherous thoughts. He must not such things while healing he shuddered at the thought of what happened the last time he did. That was a memory that was more painful that any other he'd ever received.

When the healing was finished, Mother ran her fingers through long, newly blackened, curly hair. "Thank you, Castiel."

"You're welcome" Castiel said. "Mother, I had a question-"

"Really, Castiel? You know how you feel about your questions. This isn't about the 'other world', is it?"

"Of course not." Castiel mumbled.

"You're mumbling again." Mother said sharply.

"I said, Of course not.

"Wonderful." Mother beamed. "But I'm still rather tired from my journey. Maybe ask later." Castiel nodded stiffly, but he knew better. To Mother, later meant never. He should never have bothered. He was never going to be allowed to go to the 'other world' as Mother called it.

"Castiel? Where are you?" A voice rumbled from outside the window.

"Ooh, he's here!" Mother trilled she rose and smoothed out her skirts. "Well, go on, help your father, you useless lump."

Castiel hurried over to the window and repeated the procedure, but slightly, almost imperceptibly, slower. Obviously his father had caught dinner.

"Lilith darling! How are you?" Father brushed pass Castiel, pushing him and causing Castiel to stumble slightly. His father noticed that he bumped into something and looked to check what it was.

"Oh, Castiel." His father sneered. "A bit slow today, hmm?"

Castiel flinched, but his father just laughed. "Calm down, you runty wimp. Go prepare dinner." Father dropped a baby dear that he had slung over his shoulder roughly onto the floor. Castiel nearly winced again, but this time he caught himself. It was bad enough that his father killed the animals cruelly. In addition, Father always threw the bodies around like, well, like lumps of meat. But Castiel stayed silent, knowing better than to speak his mind. Castiel lifted the doe in his arms carefully, walking to the door to the stairs at the back of the main room, heading towards the kitchen downstairs.

"Welcome home, dear." Mother said as Castiel walked away. "How was your journey?"

"Tiring." The springs of the old sofa groaning and they bounced up and down. That would be his father sitting down. Then, the springs groaning gently-Mother sitting down beside Father.

"I'm so sorry, Metatron. Should I call Castiel?"

"No, Lily, it's fine." Castiel slipped out of the room quietly, Gabriel padding along behind him. It was a relief to get out of the room-the longer he stayed in there, the more likely it was that Father would lose his temper about something or another wand would start looking for his favorite punching bag.

Castiel and Gabriel continued down the winding stairs of the tower until they reached the kitchen, second to the library, Castiel probably spent most of his time here. Neither of his parents ever bothered venturing down here, making it the safest place in the house. Castiel laughed bitterly to himself at the thought. His mother was always saying how he had to stay in the tower, to protect himself from the world and the people in it who would abuse Castiel and use his power. According to her, this tower was the safest place in earth. Ha!

But there was no point in all that now. There wasn't much Castiel could do, least of all while his parents were home. This train of thought would bring him nothing but misery. Castiel walked over to a clean counter and carefully laid the doe on it.

"Come on, Gabe, if we do this quickly then we can go have some more fun."

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So this is chapter 1. Let me know what you guys think! New chapters will hopefully be posted every weekday, and are about 1,000 words each. Just by the way. So see you guys tomorrow. Next chapter-Dean!

Also, side notes:  
Side note 1: You know you've been watching Supernatural when you think that the devil is too cute to play an abusive father and you have to give the part to an angel. Just something to think about  
Side note 2: Cas does not have miles long hair here. It would be kinda weird, at least in my mind. I'll discuss the weird healing mojo thing later. Just be patient, k?


	2. Chapter 2

"Well this is going to be fun."

Dean Winchester stood on the edge of the castle roof, grinning like a loon, looking out at the sun rising over the capitol city, err town. Regardless of the size of the village, the view was beautiful.

"It's not fun yet, Winchester." His temporary partner, Zachariah Arch growled. His brother Raphael folded his arms next to him, trying to appear intimidating. God, why did he ever team up with these guys? "The fun comes after we get the crown."

Dean sighed. "Fine. Be a killjoy. Pass me the damn rope."

A minute later, Dean was being lowered rapidly through a newly made hole in the castle ceiling. He could see the glint of the sunlight on ff the untouched crown. It looked beautiful, just sitting there out in the open. Well, not completely. There were guards. But who cares about them?

When he was low enough. Dean tugged the rope slightly and the 2 thugs holding the other end of the rope yanked it, hard, stopping his descent. Dean was about to gently place the crown in his pack when one of the guards took a deep breath and involuntarily lifted an elbow to his mouth. Perfect.

One sneeze and a tug of the rope late, Dean was whizzing back up through the ceiling.

"Feel better!" He called down cheerily.

Before the brothers re-affixed the missing piece of the roof, Dean could see the poor guards scurrying around below like confused little ants. Dean felt a twinge of pity for them. They were probably going to be switched to manual labor now, building the new walls around the town or something like that, now that there would be no more crown to protect.

"Why the hell would you do that Winchester?" Raphael asked menacingly. Or, at least he tried to. Dean thought he just looked constipated. Dean shrugged, unperturbed.

"Nothing wrong with a good run first thing in the morning." And he took off, leaping off the roof and racing towards the road that led to the forests on the edge of the city.

"Catch me if you can!" He yelled back.

The brothers tore after him, cursing and swearing to kill him in at least 50 different ways, each more gruesome than the next. Oh right, this was why he worked with their type-they were just so much fun to annoy.

"Winchester! Slow down." Zachariah barked, more like panted, 10 minutes later. Dean slowed to a jog.

"Tired already?" In all truth, Dean was about to collapse himself. But he wasn't about to admit that to Thug 1 and Thug 2.

Dean leaned against a tree, trying to catch his breath while pretending he wasn't. As soon as his breathing normaled, he took in their surroundings, Then, he stood bolt upright.

"What. Is. That?" He asked, anger rising. Zachariah turned lazily not seeming to care too much, Raphael didn't even bother looking.

"What the hell is that?" Dean cried.

"Shut you mouth." Zachariah glared at him. "Or would you like to try to get us caught _again_?"

Dean ignored him, and grabbed a paper nailed into a tree opposite him. "What the hell did they do to my chin?" He turned the paper around to show the Arch brothers a wanted poster featuring:

Dean Winchester

Extremely dangerous

Reward: 50 gold coins

and a giant picture of Dean in the middle. Or, it was supposed to be. The sketch was terrible, but none of it was as bad as the double chin that sagged down to join Dean's neck.

"Stop being so vain, Pretty Boy, it' a warrant for your arrest."

"Easy for you to say." Dean squatted down to examine the photo of the two brothers. "You guys are spot on!" That would probably be due to the fact that the Arch brothers had been caught before, twice. Somehow, they kept escaping. Dean wasn't too sure how-they weren't very bright.

A neigh rang out from the forest behind them, cutting their argument short. "And we're off." Dean announced, stuffing the wanted poster into his satchel and dashing off, leaving the brothers once again cursing and coughing dust in his wake.

The three thieves led the soldiers in a merry chase through the forest. They had lost a few soldiers along the way, until their only pursuer was the Captain and his horse.

"Come on, Sam, faster." Dean heard the captain urge his horse. Looking ahead, Dean spotted a treeless plot of land. But somehow, Dean knew it wasn't a clearing. As he studied it, the ground rippled, almost like water. Quicksand.

"Faster!" Dean yelled, leading the brothers forward. At the last second, Dean grabbed a branch from one of the lone, overhanging tree and scrambled up its trunk. He watched with uncontained glee as the brothers ran straight for the quicksand and immediately began to sink. The idiots began waiving their arms around and flailing about, trying to save themselves, all the while pushing themselves lower and lower through the wet earth. The army captain watched in satisfaction as well, and after a few moments, when it seemed pretty obvious the brother's weren't going anywhere, the Captain urged his horse back around, and took off back into the dense forest, presumably to go get the rest of his men. Obviously, he didn't realize that there was a third man involved. Dean gave a whoop of joy and hopped down from the tree, landing softly. Now, where to go?

Dean didn't exactly have a home. Mostly he just bounced around, sleeping wherever. Tonight he was probably going to sleep in a clearing somewhere, or maybe, if he was lucky, he'd find an inn to sleep where he didn't have to fear of being stabbed in his sleep for no apparent reason.

Dean obviously couldn't stay here-the guards would be back soon. He had some time, though, so Dean walked back into the forest slowly, taking a leisurely pace. He felt good. The weather was perfect, the forest was beautiful, and he had a crown- real money- in his satchel. What else could he need?

"What about family?" That annoying voice in the back of his head asked, sing song-ly. Dean smothered the idea. Hey, he was in a good mood right now; no need to go spoil it with stupidity.

As Dean strolled through the forest, he suddenly heard voices coming from the other side of a rock in front of him. Dean immediately ran for cover, and hid in the shadows of some underbrush so he could watch to see whom the voices belonged to. in the end, it was just some couple walking through the woods. Nothing to be afraid of.

As Dean came out from his hiding spot, he took a closer look at the boulder from where the couple seemingly emerged. The rock was covered in what at first glance looked like regular ivy. But as Dean examined it, he realized that the 'ivy' looked more like a curtain of leaves that someone had strung together to cover-what? A rock?

Dean pushed the wall of leaves aside to reveal a hidden clearing. In the center of the clearing stood an old, abandoned looking tower.

"Awesome." Dean thought. He wasn't going to have to sleep on the ground or in some flaky inn tonight. Now, how to climb it?

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First of all, thank you guys so much for all the views this story has gotten already. None of my stories ever got so much traffic so quickly. So thanks a ton for that, and keep the views coming, please!  
So the next chapter is back to Cas again. but once they meet, do you guys want me to continue switching perspectives? Or would you rather I pick either Dean or Cas and have them be the 3rd person limited narrator for the rest of the story? Let me know what you guys think.


	3. Chapter 3

"Castiel! Get your lazy ass up here!"

Castiel sighed. "Coming right away, Father." Castiel set down the frying pan he was cleaning. At least he was done cooking dinner-who knows what Father was going to ask him to do.

Thankfully, it was nothing too painful. "Your Mother and I are going out." Father informed Castiel when he got upstairs. "Do not expect us home for at least 2 days." As he talked, Father began strutting back and forth in front of Castiel. "While we are gone, you are to mop the floors, air out the bedrooms, and do something with that deer skin. Oh, and mount the head in my hunting room."

Castiel nodded stiffly, trying to hide the feeling of revulsion churning in his stomach. Father had a room full of hunting trophies from almost very kill he ever made. Usually, he preferred to stuff the animal's head himself, claiming it was some kind of ritual for him. But occasionally, he ordered Castiel to do it for him. It was by far Castiel's least favorite chore. How anyone could kill a harmless animal and then keep part of it as a reminder, a trophy even, both confused and repulsed Castiel. But it wasn't like he had much choice in the matter.

"I expect all this will be completed upon our return. If not, there will be severe consequences. Is that?"

Castiel nodded again, but didn't realize Father had taken that exact second to turn his back to him and couldn't see he nod. Father whirled around.

"I said." Father marched up to Castiel and stared down into his eyes, teeth bared, like some kid of rabid animal. "Is. That. Clear?"

"Yes sir." Castiel had long learned that the worst possibly thing he could on front of Father is to exhibit fear. If there was even ever one flicker of fright in Castiel's eyes, it was worse than if Castiel had over-cooked dinner, another grace offense.

"Good." Father finally said, turning away and heading toward the window. "No do something useful for the first time in your pathetic life and help me and your mother down."

5 minutes later, Castiel was waving out the window as his parents stepped through the giant boulders at the edge of their hollow. Once they were out of sight, Castile turned away from the window and exhaled heavily. Well, at least he had the tower to himself for a few days. He want exactly happy about that, though-he'd wanted his parents home 2 days from now. His parents never acknowledged his birthday, but Castiel hoped they would have this year. He was turning 20 after all-he was a full grown man now! But what did that even mean for him? It wasn't as if Castiel was going anywhere any time soon. Castiel often wondered about how in the world he would live in this damn tower his entire life. But it wasn't just his lifetime- it would be forever. As soon as Castiel showed any sign of aging his parents would force him to heal himself, again and again and again, whether he wanted to or not.

It was strange, staring into a future of eternal confinement in this tower. But it wasn't as if Castiel could leave. What would happen to his parents of he left? Most likely, they die within a month, maybe less. Castiel could never do that to them. They were his parents for God's sake! They found him abandoned in the woods, took him in, and raised him as their own. Castiel had heard this story for as long as he could remember. He couldn't just abandon them, not when they didn't abandon him.

Castiel sat down gently on the old sofa. His chores could wait a few minutes. Gabriel leaped onto the couch and sat up on Castiel's lap, innocent eyes looking beseechingly into Castiel's. Obviously Gabriel wanted to leave the tower as well. He been living here ever since he'd snuck in 10 years prior and Castiel had convinced Father to spare the poor kitten.

Castiel looked down at the cat on his lap and chuckled at his expression. "Gabe, you're a cat. You aren't allowed to make puppy eyes."

Gabriel scowled and gave the cat equivalent of a frustrated huff. Honestly, Castiel wonders sometimes if Gabriel really was 100% cat. It was just not natural for a cat to act that human.

Castiel and Gabriel sat on he coin for a while, just enjoying the peaceful silence. After about 10 minutes, a short rumbling noise broke the tranquility. Castiel pushed Gabriel gently off his lap. "C'mon, lets grab some lunch."

Castle led the cat back down to the kitchen. "Omelet?" Gabriel just stared at Castiel. "Well you don't have to eat it. You already have you lunch, remember? You just chose not to eat it." Castiel lifted the cat onto the counter before leaving in search of eggs and some fresh vegetables.

Castiel had just finished assembling the necessary ingredients and finally finished cleaning the frying pan when he heard a loud "Crash" come from upstairs. Well that wasn't supposed to happen.

Castiel immediately gripped the frying pan as a weapon and inched up the stairs towards the main room. He peeked only his head through the m doorway, looking in. It took him a minute to locate the source of the noise. On the floor in front of the window, laying in a crumpled heap, was a person. A _stranger_.

Castiel felt slightly giddy. It was weird to think about, but other than his parents, he had never actually met another person before. Was everyone like his parents? What if he didn't even speak the same language him? But then, Castiel thought of a much darker question. Why was he here?

His parents were constantly warning him about the shifty characters that there were in the 'outside world'. There world was filled with people who would use him and abuse his power. What of this was one these people?

Castiel didn't put much weight in the notions, however. This was a real live stranger, here in his tower! Seeing as the man was unconscious, Castiel inched closer towards the stranger. After examining him for a moment, Castiel realized why the man was unconscious- an egg shaped lump was forming on the crown of the man's head. Obviously he had bumped his head on the way in. ouch.

As Castiel stared, the man let out a groan and opened an eye. Castiel panicked and hit him over the head with the frying pan. The man immediately sunk back into unconsciousness. When Castiel examined the man again, he realized with a wince that he'd struck the man directly on his bruise. Seeing as the man was unconscious and couldn't very well feel or remember anything, Castiel felt it was only his duty to heal the man. After all, it was his fault the stranger was unconscious to begin with.

Castiel knelt down next to the strange man and took one of his hands between his own. Before he could say anything though, Gabriel leapt up on top of Castiel's hand and growled.

"Hey, I hurt him, I have to heal him. Whoever he is." Castiel argued. "He won't realize a thing." Castiel brushed the cat off and whispered, "Heal."

The bump rapidly disappeared, as did a few scratches on the man's hand. Whoops. Castiel proceeded to lift the man up off the floor and placed him on the couch. Now that the man's face wasn't planted on the floor, Castiel could fully see the man. But he wasn't just a man-he was an angel.

He was as beautiful, more beautiful than any drawing of a person Castiel has ever seen. He was young, but the smooth skin on his face was bunched up next to his eyes in permanent smile lines. The stranger's slack face was dotted with freckles that were mostly concentrated on his nose. It appeared as if some godly being had being pouring powdered sugar freckles on top of his face and too much spilled out in one place. No, Castiel decided, that wasn't a good comparison. It would be a crime to call any part of this man's face a mistake. Formed by a godly being, on the other hand, seemed very plausible.

Castiel's one way staring contest with the stranger was cut short by a tug on his ankle. Gabriel was biting at the leg of his pants leg, trying to get his attention and drag him away from the sleeping beautiful stranger.

"Oh come on, how bad could he be?" Castiel asked aloud.

Gabriel bounded towards the window and pointed towards a satchel that lay discarded below the window tat Castiel hadn't noticed. The stranger must have dropped it when he banged his head. Gabriel dragged it over to where Castiel was standing.

"Gabe, don't look it the stranger's bag. It's rude." Gabriel rolled his eyes and opened the bag himself. He crawled inside of the satchel and emerged clutching something between his teeth. Castiel was about to tell Gabriel not to put foreign things in his mouth when-was that a crown?

So they didn't just exist in fairy tales! Castiel stared at the crown in wonder. It looked expensive. How did this stranger come to have it? He didn't look particularly wealthy. His clothes were worn and his boots were scuffed. But maybe that was just the current fashion?

The stranger began to stir again, and Castiel froze. What was he going to say? Was the stranger going to remember receiving the bruise? How would Castiel explain the bruise's disappearance? What is this really was a botched kidnapping plot? At that though, Castiel woe up from the daze he had been in since he saw the stranger on the floor.

Strange man. Climbed up the tower. Looked poor, dirty. Had a suspicious item in his bag. Any and all glamour and novelty of meeting a stranger quickly dropped away and Castiel dove to hide behind a pillar near the couch, shrouding himself in the tower's shadows. Castiel held on to the frying pan tightly, hoping he wouldn't have to use it again, as he heard the man stir and slowly wake up.


	4. Chapter 4

Dean woke up and he had no idea where he was. This was not an uncommon occurrence for him. He was long used to the morning after nights spent pouring his pockets and heart into a pint of mead in a random bar somewhere. This time, blessedly, Dean woke up without the pounding hangover. So where was he?

Oh, right, the tower. But hadn't he hit his head on the way in? How did he wind up sitting on a couch? And where was-

"Where's my satchel?" Dean whispered to himself in a panic. He looked about the room frantically and found it lying next to the window. Dean ran to it, immediately checking its contents. The crown was inside, untouched. Thank God.

Dean re-slung the satchel over his shoulder and began to look around the room where he found himself. Contrary to his expectations, the building did not appear abandoned. There was a small bowl of fresh fish sitting in the center of the room, half-eaten. Obviously someone had been here, and not too long ago.

"I am not afraid of you." A deep voice said from behind him. Dean whirled around and stopped.

Standing directly behind him, with complete disregard for personal space, was a pair of startling blue eyes. They were topped by a long, gorgeous, mop of mussed up hair. Oh, and they belonged to a 6 foot tall guy holding a frying pan.

Although Dean was still taller than him, he took a wary step back. Who knows what that frying pan was capable of. "What did you say?"

"I said, I'm not afraid of you. Do not attempt to attack me or I will hit you with this weapon again." The man repeated in the same gravel gargling voice.

Dean raised any eyebrow. "Again? And since when is a frying pan a weapon?"

The man glanced nervously at Dean, then at the frying pan, and then back at Dean. "I will not hesitate to hurt you if necessary." He tried to sound confident and threatening, but his voice shook almost in time with the tremor in the hand that was gripping the pan.

"Sure you won't." Dean laughed, confident he had the upper hand here. And then immediately regretted it. The man's eyes burst into flames and he swung the frying pan against Dean's head, hard.

Dean once again awoke with a groan, clutching his head. _Now_ he had a pounding headache. He was seated on the floor, back leaning against the side of the couch. The frying pan man was sitting pretzel style across from him, looking at him curiously.

"Okay, what's your deal?" Dean asked. "You're looking at me as if you've never seen another human being before."

"Other than my parents, no, I haven't." The man said, as if he was telling Dean that it was going to be sunny tomorrow.

"So there are more of you here?" Dean suddenly had a image of a frying pan wielding army, all standing in rows in attention, ready to smack anyone who go t in their way.

"My parents are not home at the present moment." The man answered patiently. "I believe it is now my turn to ask a question. Who are you?"

Dean grinned, and pulled the wanted poster out of his satchel, handing it to the man. He reached out and took it, reading slowly.

"Dean Winchester." HE looked up from the paper. "Ids this supposed to be a drawing of you?'

"Yup."

"Then there appears to be something wrong with the chin in this drawing."

Dean laughed. "No kidding."

"You are a thief?" The man asked cautiously.

"D'you got a problem with that?" Dean challenged.

"No. As long as you do not attempt to remove anything from this tower without permission."

Dean winked. "No promises."

The man raised his eyebrows and lifted the frying an. "May I remind you that I am armed with a dangerous weapon that I have used in the past and am prepared to use it if the situation will arise again."

"Look at me, I'm shaking in my boots." Dean took the wanted poster back from the man and stuffed it into his bag. "So I told you who I am. Your turn-who are you? And what the hell do you mean you haven't met another human being before?"

"My name is Castiel." The man answered simply.

"Last name?" Dean interrupted.

"I do not have one, as far as I know. And in response to your second question, the statement says it all-I have never met another person outside of my parents."

"What, so have you never left this tower or something?" Dean pressed.

"That is correct."

"Holy mother of God, you've been cooped up in this tower for you entire life How old are you?"

"I will turn 20 years old in 2 days. Is there something wrong with that?" Castiel, or so he called himself, looked confused.

Dean stared. "I'm 19, and the traveled the world. How can you stands not leaving a building for 20 years?"

"Books." He stated. "I read."

"Look, I love reading as much as the next guy, but reading about something and actually seeing it are 2 completely different things."

"Well, thank you for that. That makes me feel some much better, seeing as I am never going to be leaving this tower." Castiel said emotionlessly.

Dean choked. "What do you mean?"

"You say that a lot." Castiel pointed out.

"I don't normally. I don't have to when the people I'm talking to actually make some sense. Explain, now."

Castiel spread his hands. "I am not allowed to leave this tower. I do not understand your confusion. Am I somehow being unclear?"

"No, I get what you're saying, I'm just not processing." Dean rubbed his face. "What kind of parents forbid their kids from leaving home?"

"My parents… may have some unorthodox parenting methods." Castiel said haltingly.

"What's _that_ supposed to mean?"

"Nothing." Castiel rose abruptly and turned away. "Now, either you can leave the way you came in, or I can hit you on the head again."

"I'm not leaving." Dean said stubbornly.

Castiel whirled around. "What exactly do you expect to gain from remaining here?" He asked coldly. Castiel had gone from friendly and inviting to completely closed off in the course of about .5 seconds.

"Without you." Dean finished.

"Well, then you are going to be sitting here for a while." Castiel turned away again and walked towards the door.

"You can't just leave me after saying something like that!" Dean exclaimed.

"Watch me." And with that, Castiel slammed the door behind him.

"Well that went well." Dean thought as he stood up. That guy must have some real crap going on in his life. Now, to stay or not to stay?

It wasn't his business what went on here. Castiel obviously did not want to leave, and even if he did, he probably wouldn't want to come with him, a wanted thief. But on the other hand, there was obviously some real crap going on in this house. Tower. Thing. And Dean wasn't about t roll over and let it continue.

Dean got up and walked towards the door Castiel exited from. As he put his hand on the doorknob, he heard a meow from underneath his feet. Dean looked down and found that a small, brown cat had sat down across his feet. Dean bent down ad picked him up.

"Hey little guy." He whispered. "Do you live here?" Dean tickled the cat's stomach and it wriggles with pleasure. Dean grinned and placed the little cat on his shoulder.

"Come one," he told the cat, "Let's go force your owner out of his cage."


	5. Chapter 5

I have finals all this week, plus Monday and Tuesday after that. I am going to try to keep this story updated as quickly as I usually, but the chapters may be a tad bit shorter. Also, I will not be uploading tomorrow. So I made this chapter extra long. Enjoy!

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Castiel was frustrated. Mostly at himself, but a good deal of it was directed at that idiot Dean Winchester. Who did he think he was? Strutting (or falling) into this tower and trying to drag Castiel back out with him. Well, one thing was for sure-he wasn't going anywhere with that assbut any time soon.

"You really think I'm an assbut?" A voice said behind him. "Come to think about it, what the hell is an assbut?"

Castiel's ears pinked. Of _course _the thief was standing behind him and of _course_ Castiel had just said all of that out loud.

"What do you even want?" Castiel asked, not bothering to turn around.

"I just cam to help." He tried to explain." Castiel snorted. "No, really! He" he continued. "You've been cooped up here for 19 years. I think for your 20th birthday you deserve to see the world. Also, your cat agrees."

"Gabe?" At _that_, Castiel turned around to find that damn Wincheter leaning against the doorjam, looking hot as all hell, smirking as if he'd already convinced Castiel to leave with him. and there was Gabriel, the traitor, sitting primly on his shoulder. "I can't believe you're deserting me for that-"

"Assbut?" Winchester finished for him.

"I was going to say sleazy lowlife." Castiel said flatly.

"I am not sleazy!" The other man protested. "And I'm trying to be nice."

"Well, stop trying." Castiel retorted.

"I'm not going to leave you so that you can be stuck here forever with parents with whom you obviously don't get along. And I'm assuming that' barely even a euphemism."

"How did you know?" Castiel dropped his gaze, voice barely a whisper.

The thief shrugged. "I'm good at reading body language. Survival kills." He paused. "So are you coming or not?"

"I can't leave them." Castiel said weekly. He so badly wanted to go. But he couldn't. It wasn't even an option.

"Yes you can." The other man assured him, "What would happen if you do?"

"They'll die."

"Oh." A pause. "After how long?"

"About a month." Castiel said miserably. He couldn't leave. He could never do it.

Another pause. "What about this—"

"No." Castiel said shortly.

"I didn't even say the idea yet!" Winchester complained.

"I don't even want to hear your convoluted plan. It's not going to work and I'm not leaving."

"What if it's' just for 2 days?" he begged. "Think of it as a birthday present, to make up for the ones that I'm assuming you've never really received."

His word's cut into Castiel like the knives lined up on the counter next to him. What right did this man have t just appear here, talking to Castiel like he understood exactly what was going on here, despite Castiel never telling him anything, and offering his help? Who gave him the right to offer Castiel replacement birthday presents, as if he was the one responsible for his the way his parents acted towards him?

It wasn't this stranger's fault, and it wasn't his parents either. If Castiel wasn't such a disappointment to them, if he wasn't such a bad son, then maybe things would be different.

"Hey." The other man stepped forward and laid a hand over Castiel's that was resting on the counter. "I know that look. This isn't your fault. Whatever they did to you; its not your fault. You can blame yourself for your parents being assbuts."

The word caused a small smile to alight Castiel's face. But it faded in an instance, replaced by despair. "How do you know that?"

"Because even though I just met you, I can tell that you are not a bad person. You don't look like the type of guy to do something wrong just to be spiteful to his parents."

"I hit you over the head with a frying pan 3 times."

"Self defense." He waved the comment away. "But wait, 3 times? You know, what? It doesn't matter. Some random stranger climbed into your house, you have every right to hit him over the head with cooking utensils. But what someone doesn't have the right to do is hit his son just because he dropped a cup of he overcooked the steak by a split second."

"How could you _possibly_ know all that?"

"I've been around, I've seen lots of things, met lots of people." The thief explained. "A lot of those people, I wished I never met them. I've sat next to men as they've drunken themselves nearly to death and spilled their entire life story to whoever would listen. I've heard the stories from the fathers, the sons, sometimes even the wives or the guilt-filled neighbors who've seen too much. But in tall those cases, I was never able to do anything other than just listen, or in a rare case, talk to them. But here, I can do some good. So please, let me help you."

Castiel looked down at his hand that was covered with Winchester's, and then up at the man who was looking at him almost beseechingly. He looked like a genuinely nice person, despite the thieving tendencies and reputation. And, you know, all the wanted posters.

"Okay." Castiel resigned. "But take my cat off your shoulder."

"Yes! He punched the air. "No one can resist Dean Winchester. Not even you, Cas. Can I call you Cas?"

"Sure, Winchester. You can call me whatever you want, so long as you don't get me killed."

"Alright then, darling, oh, and it's dean. Just dean."

Castiel's heart flipped when Winchester Dean called him darling. "Dean." He repeated.

Dean grinned. "Come on, let's go see the world." Then his brow wrinkled in confusion. How so we get down from here?"

"We jump out that window you cam e in?" Castiel deadpanned. Dean stared, and Castiel laughed. "Close your mouth, you look like a goldfish. I was kidding. We have a rope. Just give me a minute. I want to grab a coat."

The two of them (plus Gabriel, who was still on Dean's shoulder) trooped upstairs, and Castiel grabbed a tan coat from a closet leaning against a wall.

"Isn't that a rain coat?" Dean asked confused.

"Yes. My father bought it a while ago, but then the sleeve tore a bit and he tossed it away." Castiel gestured to a small rip on the edge of the left sleeve.

"No, that's not why I'm confused. This place has windows, right? So you've noticed that it hasn't rained in a solid month? Also, it's the middle of the summer."

Castiel shrugged. "I've never had the opportunity to wear a raincoat before-there was never any need. If I'm going to leave this tower, I might as well be prepared."

Dean shrugged. "Whatever you want. Now, where is this rope thing?'

Castiel led him over to the window where a rope sat rolled up in a neat pile, attached to a pulley on the wall. "You hold onto the end of it, and I'll lower you down. It works the same way going up."

"You _pulled_ your parents up into the tower."

"Yes. How else would they get up?"

"I dunno, stairs? You guys never put in a _normal_ door to the outside?"

"But this way, they don't have to exert any force."

Dean snorted . "So instead you can do all the work for them."

Castiel sighed. "Just hold onto the edge of the rope and I'll lower you down."

Dean shook his head. "No way. You, Cas, are going to hold onto the rope. I'll lower you down. I can climb down, the same way I got up."

Castiel raised an eyebrow. "Are you trying to be some kind of kind of chivalrous gentleman who goes around helping poor, helpless women?"

"Do you want me to be?" Dean waggled his eyebrows.

"Do I look like a woman to you?"

"No, but that's not the point. This is your chance to be free. And I'm not letting it start off with you doing the same chore that you had to do for your parents."

"Can we just drop the subject of my parents?" Castiel pleaded.

"I will, as soon as you take the end of the rope." Dean countered.

"You're stubborn."

"Yes yes, tell me something I don't know. Now, are we leaving or not?"

Castiel have a sharp nod. He was really doing this. He was leaving the tower. Could he? Should he? Castiel wrapped the end of the rope around his hand and stepped out the window, hoping to God but somehow knowing that Dean would ensure that he didn't fall.


	6. Chapter 6

When Castiel landed on the ground, he just stared at it. Honestly, Dean had expected a bit more emotion, some sort of dramatic reaction. This was his first time outside, for God's sake. Most people cry the first time they're outside, since they're babies. But Cas just bent down and felt the grass under his feet and said,  
"Well this feels weird."  
Dean jumped the last 2 feet down from where he was climbing down the tower. "No kidding-it's grass. So what do you think of the great big world?"  
Cas raised an eyebrow and surveyed the area around him. "It looks like it did from my window, simply at a different angle."  
"That's it?" Dean sputtered. "First time on real ground and that's all you have to say?"  
"If you expected me to begin a music number then they rescued the wrong person from their tower." Cas said dryly.  
Dean sighed. "Fine. Now, first day in the great wide world. Where d'ya want to go?"  
Cas looked hesitant for a moment before asking, "Can I meet more people?"  
Dean grinned. "Great choice. That I can do."  
And with that, Dean guided Cas out of the hollow and into the woods beyond.  
"I'm going to introduce you to a couple of my kinds of people." Dean informed Cas as they walked through the forest.  
"So, thieves."  
Dean shrugged but didn't comment.  
"So where is this place?" Cas asked.  
"Not much farther." Dean assured him. "It's a bar where I spend most of time time. Owned by good guys. You'll like them."  
"I'm fine as long as they don't try to steal anything off me."  
Dean looked Cas up and down. "Cas buddy, you don't exactly have much to steal."  
Cas tilted his head in acknowledgment.  
A few minutes later, Dean brushed away a giant tree limb covered with moss and leaves to reveal a run-down looking cabin with a few horses milling around outside.  
"Welcome to the Roadhouse!" Dean announced. "The friendliest bar for theives around."  
"Isn't that an oxymoron?"  
Dean gave him a look. "Stop being so judgmental. We have morals, you know."  
"No. I wouldn't."  
Dean looked at Cas's stoic expression and cracked up. "Sorry, I almost forgot for a second. So, an explanation is in order, then. We're not exactly thieves like you read about in books or anything like that. We-"  
Dean voice was cut off by a roar coming from the Roadhouse. "Dean Winchester. Get in here now, ya idgit!"  
Dean grinned. "Ah, home. Nothing like it."  
He swaggered up to the front doors and pushed them aside. "After you." He told Cas courteously.  
"Perhaps you should lead, seeing as I have never been here before. And it appears there is someone inside go would like to speak with you."  
"Nah, that's just Bobby. But you've got a point." Dean strolled into the bar and spread out his arms. "I'm home!"  
Immediately, Bobby wheeled up to him, furious. "2 months, boy. 2 damn months! You don't visit, you don't write-"  
Dean shrugged. "I was busy. Also, I wasn't exactly welcome here for a while after last time."  
"Boy, no one here but me decides who's banned from this bar, no matter how many pounds of muscle you got. And you ain't. So don't go running of like that again, you hear? Ellen was worried sick. Hell, /I/ was worried. Where've you been?"  
Dean waves a hand vaguely. "Here ad there."  
Bobby snorted. "Hanging out with pretty boy here, no doubt."  
Dean spun around to find Cas still at standing awkwardly in the doorway. Oops.  
Dean shot Bobby a look that clearly said, "Behave," before walking back to Cas. "Cas, this is Bobby, my self appointed father. He owns this place. Bobby, this is Castiel. I kinda...ran Ito him yesterday and now I'm giving him the official Dean Winchester tour of the kingdom."  
Cas stretched out his arm and bobby took it, shaking it slowly, all the whole scrutinizing him slowly.  
"Dean, what are you up to?" He finally asked, finally turning away from Cas.  
"Recently?" Dean rubbed the back of his neck. "Well, I got us the royal crown yesterday."  
Bobby swore. "Those idgits tried for it /again/?"  
Dean nodded. "They just don't know when to give up. But at least this time they think the crown is actually stolen, so they won't try to steal it again once they got out of jail."  
"Canned 'em too?"  
"I always do, Bobby."  
"Wish you'd return what you stole as often." Bobby muttered.  
"Hey, I take my 10% finders cut. I think I'm entitles, seeing as I do a better job of keeping this kingdom safe than the entire police force combined."  
"Umm, Dean?" Cas asked. "You're a thief. No offense, but how is that keeping the kingdom safe?"  
Oops.  
Bobby rolled his chair right up in front of Dean. "You didn't even tell him? What kind of idgit are you?"  
Dean suddenly found a black speck on the floor that he began to state at and scrape off by scuffing his shoes against it.  
Bobby sighed. "You're going to be the death of me one of these days, you know that? C'mere, both of you."  
Bobby led the pair of them over to a small table in the back of the bar. Dean scrapped along, still staring at the ground, Castiel trailing behind, equal parts confused and curious. Bobby grabbed a bottle from a nearby shelf and poured them all a generous drink. Dean looked up in time to see Castiel stiffen at the sight of them amber liquid sloshing into the three slightly clean glasses and made a mental note to find out about that later. Or maybe not. Why was he so interested in this guy anyways? He was just some stranger he picked up from nowhere that he was suddenly introducing to the closest thing that he had to family. That was normal, right? It had nothing to do with the fact that the guy's eyes looked as if the were expertly cut sapphires and that his hair was practically hair /asking/ to be missed up or...  
"Stop it." Dean told himself. We are /not/ going through this right now. Instead, Dean took a sizable gulp of the alcohol Bobby provided.  
"Are either of you going to tell me what's going on?" Cas finally asked.

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Okay, so I am so so sorry that this took so long. I had finals, and ten my cousin got engaged, and then I flew to Israel for the summer so I had to pack, and then I got settled and then I finally sat down to write and here we are. Hopefully I will update sooner.


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